Living with Temptation (8 page)

“Why don’t you?”

Hearing the need in his voice almost overwhelmed her. Here
she was, standing on the beach with the man she’d lusted after since moving in
with him. And she was torn between wanting Dean, and knowing that she
shouldn’t.

Chelsea offered herself to him last night, and he’d refused.
What if there was no hope of finding love with Dean? But seeing the look in his
eyes made her knees weak, and her lips parted.

“I…”

Then he claimed her.

Dean’s lips crashed onto hers, his hands sliding around her waist
to pull her against him. Chelsea’s eyes widened when she felt hardness in his
pants pressing against her thigh. The firmness of his lips overcame everything
else as he kissed her deeply, taking her, their bodies pressing together with a
need that felt like she was breaking underneath him. Giving Dean a part of her
no one else had.

She slid her hands up his back, mesmerized by how firm and
strong his body felt underneath his shirt. Her fingers moved across his skin,
sating her need to touch him since the moment they kissed in front of the fire.
Chelsea wanted to melt against his hard body, recalling her fantasies of seeing
him shirtless.

The cool wind tore at her, but the heat of Dean’s body held
her close, warming her body, and her heart.

Dean tasted her, pulling her tightly until her breasts were
crushed against his chest. He guided his tongue between her lips and she opened
up for him, allowing him inside her. Chelsea felt nothing but him as she clung
to his body, wanting more than Dean could ever give her. Heat coursed between
them. She draped her arms around the back of his neck, pulling him harder
against her. Clinging to him with all of the need and sexual frustration she’d
felt for days, the desire that burned within her.

She returned his kiss passionately, his tongue melding with
hers as she moved her hips against his groin. Feeling how hard he was, Chelsea
wanted to pull away and tell him to fuck her.
No holding back…

Dean’s lips left hers.

Chelsea’s mouth tingled from his kiss as she stared at him
helplessly. She drew in a breath. There were so many words on the edge of her lips.

“Why’re you doing this?” she managed to say. He stared at
her, his eyes pained. Dean seemed to struggle for words. Chelsea looked at him
pleadingly. Her question was directed at him, but she also wondered that
herself. Why was she letting Dean kiss her like this, without a moment’s
resistance?

“Because I want you, Chelsea,” he breathed. “And before you argue,
I know you want me too.”

His words sobered her, and her desire faded.

She bit her lip, pain contorting her features. Dean’s eyes
were fixated on her, waiting for her to respond. But she didn’t know what to
say. Yes, she wanted him. But it was obvious he wanted nothing more than sex,
and she couldn’t take that risk with her feelings.

Last night was one moment where she was willing to take that
risk. But not now, not with how she cared for Dean.

“I do,” she admitted quietly. His eyebrows raised in
surprise.

“Then why resist what we both want?”

Chelsea glared at him. He’d been the one to resist last
night. Now he seemed interested. His indecisiveness angered her.

“It’s not about sex for me!” she replied haughtily. “I mean
it was, but things change. Feelings change.”

She knew what she wanted to happen. A relationship. She
wanted to get to know him, to kiss him every day before the chance passed and
they would only be friends.
All it takes is that one question.
But Chelsea
was hoping for something he didn’t want. Dean stared at her, his eyes darkening
when he realized her point. Her heart was pounding. This was as close as she
wanted to get to admitting her feelings.

“I understand,” he said. “You want to continue walking, or
should we go?”

Chelsea stared out towards the ocean, trying to calm her
mind and her body after feeling his hardness against her thigh. Her heart
thundering in her ears, it took a lot of effort to force her need for Dean out
of her mind. Her hands were shaking subtly, arousal burning through her.

“We should head back,” she decided. “Looks like it’ll rain.
But thank you for taking me out here.”

Dean nodded, and whatever he was feeling, she couldn’t read
it on his face. Not that she wanted to know, she realized, her heart sinking as
reality came back to her.
Playboy millionaire,
she reminded herself.
That was his life, one she wouldn’t be a part of for long.

“My pleasure,” he said.

On their way back to the car, Chelsea noticed Dean was
keeping his distance from her. Her stomach was in knots and knowing that he was
avoiding her only made her feel worse. But resisting him was for the best – falling
for an arrogant, notorious millionaire wasn’t her intention, even though she
cared for him.

To harden her resolve against him, Chelsea turned her thoughts
to Desiree, the actress Dean slept with but turned away when she left her
husband for him. Her reminder of what he was capable of. No doubt he’d hurt
many women, seducing them with his looks and charm. She would just be another.

Chelsea swallowed in an attempt to ease the lump in her
throat. Dean was indecisive and messing with her feelings for a reason – he
didn’t want to get involved with her.

She continued to glance at him, torn between her feelings. How
could she allow herself to feel for him? Despite wearing that dress, Dean was
the one with the power over her, and he knew it. He offered her his house, and
he could turn her away at any time.

As she seated herself in the car, her gaze lowered to the
bulge in his pants.
I have some power over him,
she noticed. Perhaps it
was more than she realized. Chelsea quickly looked away. His blatant sign of
arousal stirred even more feelings to the surface.

Dean drove back in silence. Chelsea followed him into the
house, taking a moment to relax as her gaze went upstairs to her temporary
room. Dean glanced over at her and grinned widely, his hair windswept.

“I’ll need to take a cold shower, if you don’t mind.”

He was hinting at the kiss on the beach. Chelsea stared
blankly, shocked by his insincerity. How dare he make a dismissive comment
about that? But when her eyes locked onto his, her anger faded. His smile was
forced, and his green eyes seemed to plead at her to let it go.

Dean was hurting.

She lowered her gaze and held back a snappy remark. Dean’s
words stung, but this was his way of letting it go. It had to be.

Chelsea forced a smile, grateful to hear the playful tone in
his voice.  “Go ahead. I need to use your computer.”

His grin faded. “You know where it is.”

Confused by his reaction, Chelsea went upstairs, the sound
of her footsteps soft as she walked down the hall into Dean’s room, her feet
sinking into the carpet. Maybe he expected her to come up with a clever retort.
She wasn’t in the mood to play around, not after that kiss. His words still
shocked her, but she reminded herself that he hadn’t been in a situation like
this before. He usually fucked a woman, and moved on.

And it was something she hadn’t experienced. Before Ryan she
had two long term relationships, no one night stands or dirty sex. It served as
a reminder to how different Dean’s life was from hers. If there was any hope of
a relationship, she couldn’t see it working with the media’s attention.

Dean’s room was spacious, with a computer on a desk in the
far right corner. The bed was king sized with a white duvet, the carpet a
simple beige color with deep red walls. Yet in all its simplicity, it was still
extravagant.

Chelsea seated herself at the desk, thoughts swirling
through her mind furiously. She pushed the power button on the computer, waiting
for it to turn on. Then she shot a look towards the hall, expecting Dean to be there.

She drew in a breath. The first kiss with Dean had been one
moment, one time. But the passionate kiss on the beach meant more than that.
Whenever she looked at him she felt a rush of feelings, feelings she couldn’t
make sense of. How could Dean Westley make her so flustered, horny, and fearful
all at once?

Whether it was from the unresolved feelings from her
marriage to Ryan or intense lust for Dean, she didn’t know. Opening her heart
to him was too much of a risk – for Dean it was easy to turn her away, as it
had been with Desiree.

Chelsea pointed out he only wanted sex from her. But even
speaking aloud the cold, hard truth didn’t invalidate her feelings. She cared
about Dean – as a friend, yet it was becoming complicated far too quickly.

The computer loaded quickly, a welcome change to the older
model she’d left behind. Chelsea clicked on the place she bookmarked earlier. A
simple one bedroom house – not as homely as her last one, but it was sufficient.
She maneuvered to her email and opened the reply to her inquiry. All she needed
to do was agree, and then it would be time to move in.

Chelsea exhaled loudly, her brows creasing heavily as she
considered her options. If she stayed with Dean, her feelings would deepen. Then
she would end up hurt when the time came for him to push her aside and move on
to another woman.
He doesn’t care for me that much,
she told herself.
It’s
just a game to him.

Dean’s playful comments were proof of that.

Pushing away the feeling she could be wrong, Chelsea began
typing her reply. She chose the date she would move in next week. Andrea could loan
her some money to pay a month of rent. To make up for the daily living costs,
she would take up more hours at Walmart.

The thought made her flinch. It wasn’t what she longed for,
but there was nothing else. Before Chelsea could stop herself, her thoughts
went to Dean. She heard the shower turn on downstairs, cascading water down his
firm, defined body.

She repressed her smile, feeling herself blush deeply. Fantasizing
about him was harmless, but part of her wanted it to be more than that.

Dean’s eyes would be on her as she peeled off her clothes,
stepping into the heat of the shower with him. Steam would brush against her
skin as he pulled her against him, and she could finally feel that broad, firm
chest, naked and wet. His skin would glisten in the light, his lips wet as they
shared a passionate kiss as he pressed her up against the shower wall.

The phone started ringing, jolting her out of her thoughts. She
felt flustered, her cheeks burning. Chelsea hesitated and glanced at the
handset perched at the end of the desk.

“Let it go to voicemail!” Dean called out.

Chelsea swallowed awkwardly, her mind still on the fantasy
of joining him in the shower. She quickly pushed it aside and waited, letting
the phone ring loudly as she tried to continue with her email.

When it stopped, there was a beep and a woman’s voice spoke
from the other end.

“Hi, Dean. I hope you haven’t forgotten me. Jenny? Your
wife?”

Chelsea’s mouth dropped open and the pain that shot through
her froze her against the seat. The woman continued talking, but it sounded
like a distant echo to her. Her heart pounded in her ears as she tried to focus
on what she was saying.

“I tried emailing you, and I called you last week but you
didn’t call back. I need some money for our son. Thomas will be four tomorrow.”

Son?

Chelsea stared at the phone in disbelief. Who
was
Dean?
Her lip curled in disgust. Supposedly he was a single playboy millionaire and
now a married man with a son.
Unbelievable!

Her shock quickly turned into anger.
This can’t be
happening
. He’d deceived her, no wonder he played around with her feelings.
He was married. She couldn’t recall seeing a wedding ring – that was how little
it meant to Dean.

How little
she
meant to him, to hide away the truth.

Chelsea sent the email with one, heavy click of the mouse
and ran downstairs. Her stomach felt heavy, and a deep pain stabbed through her
chest. She wanted to get out of this house, to breathe fresh air. She wanted to
be away from Dean.

She heard the shower turn off and by the time she made it
downstairs to the front door, Dean stumbled over to her, a towel wrapped
tightly around his waist. Water dripped from his hair onto his shoulders, his
lips parted as he stared at her in confusion.

“Why make all that noise?” he demanded, raising a hand
towards the stairs in exasperation.

Chelsea swallowed, burning desire claiming her body as she
looked upon his wet chest, his skin gleaming in the light the way it had in her
fantasy. Remembering the phone call, she glared at him.

“I started to trust you!” she snapped. “So you have a wife
and a son? Why would you hide something like that? I don’t know who you are.”

Dean gaped at her. “Jenny called…”

“Oh yes she did,” Chelsea affirmed, pulling open the front
door. The cold air stung her skin, and she welcomed it but it did nothing to
cool her rising anger.

“Wait, Chelsea, it’s not what you think!”

“I need some time alone!” she told him, closing the door
behind her.

She buried her hands into the pockets of her coat, strolling
along the sidewalk as another gust of cold air hit her. Chelsea blinked back
tears, feeling confused by Dean’s words.
He told me he never had a long term
relationship.
Or had the marriage been so brief he didn’t consider it as
one?

Anger took hold of her again. How could Dean be so deceitful?
Spending time with her and stealing kisses, while hiding the fact that he’s
married. And a father. Pain cut through her when she realized he had the life
she once longed for. Money. A family.

She’d been foolish to grasp onto the hope she could be with
Dean. Chelsea shook her head. That was why she closed her heart off to any man
after Ryan. Now she’d harbored burgeoning feelings for Dean only to be hurt
again.

He could never be hers, and everything they did was a
mistake.

After walking two blocks into the shopping center of Spring
Lake, Chelsea hesitated as she reached into her jeans pocket. Relief passed
through her when she felt her credit card. It was an old habit of hers to carry
her credit card in her pocket instead of taking a purse. She’d been meaning to
change that. Recalling the conversation with Dean about change, a stab of pain
went through her.

Spending a few dollars on a coffee would help with her mood,
even if it wouldn’t taste the same as Starbucks. A deep pain settled into the
pit of her stomach as she recalled the look of shock on Dean’s face.
He
didn’t want me to find out.

Chelsea tried to push the burning pain from his deceit out
of her mind. Tears were stinging her eyes. She entered the cozy surroundings of
Spring Lake Coffee House, breathing in the smell of coffee and baked goods.
After ordering espresso and paying with the IPad system, she took a seat at one
of the red couches facing the window. To the right was a bookshelf, and she
stared idly at the various titles until her coffee was brought to her by a
young, brown haired man.

“Haven’t seen you around here before,” he said kindly.

Chelsea took the cup from his hands and gave him a gentle smile.
It was good to hear a comforting voice. Spring Lake was a small town, no doubt
he knew all the locals. Most likely he would’ve heard of Dean.
Perhaps he comes
here with his wife
, she thought bitterly.

“I’m from Newark, will be staying here for…a few days,”
Chelsea replied. Her smile faded when Dean came back into her mind. He was all
she could think about and her resulting feelings were a painful mix of desire
and sadness. She couldn’t stay with him any longer.

“You look troubled,” he noted. “Something on your mind?”

She glanced at him and as if worried she were offended by
his question, he raised a hand defensively. “Oh, I think I recognize you. Yeah,
you were with Dean Westley out on the beach. A guy like him is easily noticed
around here. I’m Raymond, by the way.”

“Chelsea. I’m not with him,” she said tersely, and then hastily
added, “Dean just offered me his place to stay while I get back on my feet. I’ll
be moving back to Newark soon.”

The man studied her face for a moment, a frown creasing his
brows. “He’ll be disappointed.”

Chelsea stared at him in surprise. How on Earth did he come
to that conclusion?

“I think it would be far from that.”

Raymond’s lips formed a thin line. His brown eyes had been
fixated on her, but now he turned his attention out the window. “Before he
became the famous millionaire that he is, Dean used to work here. He was a good
man. Decent, same as his brother. I didn’t know their parents very well, sadly.
I just think all this playboy crap is a façade. Something the media’s come up
with.”

Chelsea almost choked on her espresso. Raymond blindly
believed Dean had done no wrong. She felt sorry for him. Appearances could be deceiving,
as she now knew. “I think you’re wrong about him.”

Raymond shrugged, obviously dejected talking about Dean, and
left her alone on the couch. Chelsea stared after him, taking delicate sips of
espresso. She hadn’t meant to hurt him, but with all of the feelings raging
through her, she didn’t know how to cope. Suddenly she wished she had taken her
cell phone to call Andrea. A good conversation with her would help.

Remembering their last talk, she flinched. Andrea warned her
about him, and still she’d allowed herself to get involved with Dean. Even
though they hadn’t slept together, her intense attraction to him made her feel
bare, as if every part of her was open to him. To find something like that was
rare.

But it hadn’t been real. Dean was only using her for his
benefit.

Now it had led to this.

Chelsea stared out the window onto the street, recalling when
she had walked along the beach with Dean, and the passionate kiss they shared.
Our
last kiss.
The guilt from that was overshadowed by the pain from his
betrayal. Soon Dean would be out of her life, but she couldn’t bring herself to
accept what had happened. The look in his eyes promised so much; it truly felt
as though he cared for her too.

Perhaps she was overreacting. After all, they’d known each
other for less than three weeks. But with the chemistry they had, living
together in that house, her feelings developed faster than she could’ve
anticipated.

It also gave Dean an excuse to avoid his marriage, and his
son. The words she heard Jenny say were hard to accept. Only Dean could tell
her the truth.

Chelsea finished off her espresso and sensing movement
beside her, she glanced over to see Raymond. The man leaned against the couch
as he observed the quiet shop.

“Not many customers today,” he commented idly. Chelsea gave
him a sympathetic smile, and he returned it.

“You should give him a chance,” Raymond suggested. “All these
women Dean is with, he never took them out to the beach where people can see
him. He’s secretive like that. But doing that with you, it shows he cares for
you more than you know.”

Chelsea tasted more of her espresso. It had a different
taste than Starbucks coffee, but one that she could get used to.

“No he wouldn’t,” she told him, her voice bitter. “Because
he has a wife.”

Now it all made sense. That was why Dean was so concerned
with the media and what they thought of him.
He wants to keep up a good
image for his family.

Deep pain contorted Raymond’s face, and she stared at him,
startled by his reaction. Now she knew why he was taking an interest in her –
he knew something about Dean.

“That was my idea,” he admitted. “Dean wanted the media off
his back; I suggested he hire someone to act as his wife for a short time.
After that, he stopped talking to me. Never heard from him again.”

Chelsea shook her head, her eyes wide with surprise. She quickly
took a sip of espresso to calm herself. “Why would you do that?”

“He doesn’t deserve all the attention from the media. I
don’t think you realize how relentless and brutal they are. Stalking you,
hacking into phones. He was still moving on from the death of his parents. And
the idea did work, for a time. Until he had that scandal with an actress.”

Chelsea nodded slowly, letting Raymond’s words sink in. So Dean
had been telling the truth, it wasn’t how it seemed. Was the son fake as well? Realizing
that her mouth was open from the revelation, she closed it. Then she lowered
her gaze as the memory of Dean’s face returned to her.

Going along with what someone else said, she hadn’t stopped
to listen to him.
He has to put up with this all the time,
Chelsea
realized. Dean had to go through such lengths to keep the media out of his
life. Knowing how obsessed society was with celebrities and wealthy men, she
could understand it. But she hadn’t considered how much it affected him.

Chelsea closed her eyes and sighed deeply. All of the feelings
she kept buried came rushing back at her. She needed to hear the truth from Dean.
She had to see him again.

“Sorry you had to hear it from me,” Raymond added, leaving
her alone to her thoughts.

When she finished her espresso, Chelsea left and walked back
to Dean’s place. Her mind was racing, her heart clenching against her chest.
All she could see was the pained expression on Dean’s face when she left. It
hurt her more than she realized, but she couldn’t understand why. They weren’t
in a relationship, she had no need to be jealous of his staged wife. And there
was still the possibility he had a son.

As soon as the house came into view, she saw him leaning
against a seat on the patio. Dean’s eyes lit up when he noticed her, but his
expression was grim. Feeling embarrassed for the way she reacted, Chelsea
walked over to him, listening to the heavy thump of her boots against wood as
she cleared the three steps onto the patio.

She met his gaze and swallowed uncomfortably.

“I should’ve listened to you.”

“No, you were right to react in that way,” Dean admitted.
“It was my fault for not being honest with you. Jenny’s not my wife.”

“I know, thanks to Raymond. And I understand why you didn’t
tell me. Sometimes there are things which deserve to stay buried in the past,
but this wasn’t one of them.”

Dean quirked an eyebrow. “You talked to Raymond?”

“Yeah. Funny coincidence, huh? That I happened to talk to
him. At least he told me the truth.”

He winced. “I couldn’t tell you, not so soon. And you
believe in coincidences?”

Chelsea shrugged. “I do.”

Dean nodded, accepting her words. Chelsea stared at him, noticing
the glimmer in his green eyes as he thought deeply. Her gaze fixated on his
lips.

“Still,” he added pointedly. “It wasn’t decent of me, and
I’m sorry.”

His voice struck her to her very core, and when he turned to
look towards the street, she realized why she reacted so strongly. And Chelsea
needed to tell him. Her anger had inflamed into passion. Dean was looking far
too tempting to resist. He was everything she wanted, and there was still a
chance.

“Dean, I…want you.”

He turned to look at her. His eyes gleamed with lust as he
narrowed them hungrily and unfolded his arms. “Then let’s talk about this
later.”

As Dean stood and strode purposefully towards her, her pulse
increased. He stopped inches from her face, his body there, waiting for her.

Chelsea looked up at him, studying the frown lines on his
face, the look of concern in his eyes. Her body warmed from knowing how deeply
she wanted him, her skin tingling and awaiting his touch.

“I need to make this up to you,” he breathed.

This was just how she wanted him to.

Dean’s hands grasped the small of her back and he pulled her
into his arms. Chelsea let herself be taken by him, her breath escaping
forcefully in desire. His mouth met hers and she returned the kiss hungrily.

Closing off all the pain and doubt, Chelsea gave into him.

Dean lowered a hand to the curve of her backside, cupping
the firm mounds as he squeezed gently, teasingly. Her body ached with need, and
she gasped against his lips. Chelsea moved a hand to the back of his neck,
sliding her fingers into his hair, feeling him close. His lips and the heat of
his breath crashed onto her mouth again and again until she felt herself
getting wet.

She wanted to break their kiss, to tell him what she felt,
what she wanted all this time.

When Dean tore his lips from hers, she restrained herself.
He lowered his mouth to the firm length of her neck. Dampening her skin with
his tongue, his hot kisses trailed gently above her collarbone. He sucked, his
hesitancy showing in his movement.